


/jack's raging bile duct

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Fight Club (1999)
Genre: Hallucinations, Multi, POV First Person, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19111483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: It's all his fault.





	/jack's raging bile duct

Sometimes you wake up without any knowledge of being sick. You don't realize it until the pounding headaches kick in, you slam a thermometer in your mouth and read "99" on its unlit screen. Or you feel a throbbing pain in your gut and it comes out on the floor at work, and everyone stares at you like you just did something much stranger than vomiting. But other times, like that day, it's immediate. The aches are all over from the moment you open your eyes, and you can barely even get downstairs to call your boss.

I remember getting sick semi-often when I was younger. I'll never be sure if it was because of stress, because of having to run back and forth between mommy and daddy without knowing why, or if I just had a weak immune system. At some point in high school, the threshold for what qualifies as "sick" lowers a bit. Suddenly you're fifteen and the burning pain in your throat isn't enough to let you stay home, which seems unfair. Then you're at work, and you'll show up no matter how bad you feel, until you pass out on the desk and people ask  _why_ you didn't stay home. Humanity cultivates a standard of wellness that isn't really fair in the slightest, and that's how flu gets passed around every year like a ghost possessing body after body. Unless your brain is melting out of your ears, you're good enough to work.

But I hadn't had it this bad in years. Blurry vision, burning face, arms and legs plagued with cold sweats. It hadn't been long since  _all that stuff_ happened. The Project Mayhem people were still getting their things together and filing out of my house, even though they'd barely brought anything with them to start. Whoever was left probably heard me hit the floor. My legs couldn't hold up the rest of me, knees buckled and suddenly my skull collided with the dilapidated wood holding this house together.

That stupid blonde bastard, I don't remember his name, but he showed up looking all nervous with his scarred-up face. 

"Sir! Are you al--"

"Don't call me  _sir_." All of my bones were full of iron, they were so heavy. And that blonde bastard, he pushed me back onto my sleeping mattress, throwing the threadbare blanket over me like he was tucking in a child. I was annoyed. "Stop."

"I'll go call in for you."

I tried to tell him  _no, it's fine, please just get your stuff and go already_ , but he was already running off and I couldn't even try to go after him. All I could do was count all the cracks in the chipping plaster ceiling. When I looked back, I saw him. Not the blonde bastard, no, it was Tyler. Heart thumping, stomach gurgling, head pounding, he squatted down beside my bed and was just all-too-close. I could still smell the cigarette ash on his shirt.

"You look terrible." Tyler had this shit-eating grin on his face. "Maybe I jinxed you. Maybe I jinxed you after you tried to get rid of me. How's that injury doing?" His finger dug beneath the bandage on my neck, fingering the gooey bullet hole. It hurt. I clenched my teeth together. "Distracts you from being sick, don't it?"

"Stop it. You're not real. You don't exist. This is all just, just, some kind of grand delusion..."

 "If I'm not real, you should be able to get rid of me."

I tried. I tried to imagine a reality where Tyler was somewhere far away. I retreated to my cave, and it was cold and safe, but then there was a finger in the wound again. "You suck at this." His voice pierced through the calm that I was trying to hide away in. I felt weak, moreso than ever before in my life. I probably had an easier time walking when I'd just been born. Sweat clung to every inch of me and I felt like I was dying.

"Sir!"

Blonde bastard. I opened my eyes and realized my own finger was buried in the bloody wound. I was losing my mind. That blonde bastard, he was clutching a bag of ice and dropped it across my forehead, in a way that lacked any sort of care. "I called your workplace, and then I called Marla, so--"

"You did what?!"

"I called Marla, sir." My guts were tying themselves in knots.

"Why- why would you do that?"

"Well, she said if you ever needed help that you should call, sir. I'll stay here as well, sir, I can--"

"Don't! Get out of here!"

"I refuse." That blonde bastard shoved his fists in his pockets. "I'll go get you some ibuprofen, sir." And then he was gone again, I felt like my guts had been laid bare across the floor. Vulnerable. I didn't want Marla to come over. I didn't want to make things worse, to make things more complicated for her. I didn't want to hurt her anymore, because she didn't deserve that and she's a good person and all that.

Tyler was back, standing in the corner of the room.

"Can't even command your own boys?" He shook his head, lighting a cigarette. "Fair. Your body hardly even belongs to you anymore."

"Just go away, please." I buried myself in my blankets. But suddenly he was right next to me, and the warmth of his body was blinding. I felt like I was dying. Like I had been in a desert for days with no water and finally everything was coming to a close.

"What are you afraid of, little man?" His palm on my cheek was hot. It burned. "You're hitting bottom. It's beautiful." I must've looked like a mess, I felt like a mess. His breath laid heavy on my face, I was cold and hot and falling apart. "You're red like you just fucked."

"I'm sick."

"No shit, you're cuddling with your imaginary friend."

"I mean I have a stomach bug, Tyler."

"That's terrible." He sounded sarcastic. "You'd oughtta get some sleep then, huh?" He was right. I was worn out. Completely exhausted. I'd never felt this sleepy in my life, it was like I'd never had insomnia before. Maybe this was the true key to sleep. Maybe it'd be better if I was sick all the time. "You are sick all the time." I could really use the extra sleep, but it was kind of hard to get comfortable when my body temperature was at both ends of the spectrum all at once. I managed to pass out.

Then came the fever dream. One of the worst I can remember. It's hard to explain what it was like. Colors and lights all flashing, all I knew was that I felt unsafe. Things were coming towards me, ever-shifting monsters. Just mass, but all eyes and mouths and flesh. I couldn't move, I was paralyzed in an invisible cage. I opened my mouth to cry out, but all that came was rasping air. The Starry Night passed over my head, smog choking up my brain in clouds, it was all in blues and pinks and greens and purples, all swirling together like bruises. Blood dripped from an unknown source, or perhaps it was strawberry jam. It was on my hand. I was six years old again and I wanted my mom. Rain fell. The only recognizable thing in the soupy haze was Tyler, lighting a cigarette and smiling at me, and I felt pathetic. I was pathetic.

The moment I opened my eyes, bile was rushing up my throat. I vomited on the floor once. Then the shakes, and the heaves, and another. It was all water, there was nothing in me to spew but water and some of last night's TV dinner. Mucus hung in strings between my teeth as I spewed a third time into the puddle, and I dry-heaved. It hurt, my ribs felt like they were being crushed inside of my body.

"Tyler?"

"Where?!" I sat up, covered in sweat. It was Marla.

"You, that's your name. God. I can't make sense of you at all." She passed a pill bottle to me. Advil. "Billy Idol told me to give this to you."

"Who? That blonde bastard?"

"Yeah." She sat down by the other side of my bed, the one that didn't have a vomit puddle on it. Her hand met my face, and it was kind and gentle. Best of all, it was cold. Somehow, inexplicably, Marla was always freezing cold from bone to skin. "You look like death." I snorted. I don't know why I thought it was funny. I was so delirious, I didn't know what to feel anymore. "Hey. You doin' alright? You're not allowed to die before me."

"I just... I just puked on the floor." I laughed. She laughed too. "Does that sound alright?"

"No, I guess not. I'll get you some water."

She stood up and walked out. I liked Marla. I didn't like Marla. I didn't know what to think of Marla, but I felt dirty having her pity me like this. As soon as she left, Tyler took her place, standing in a different corner of the room. My blood ran cold every time I looked at him. My stomach cramped up.

"You really become a pussy when I'm not here. No wonder you came up with me." He tapped the end of his cigarette against a wall, causing ash to drop from it. "Is she your momma now? That's fucked up, man, you had sex with her." I didn't. I couldn't remember having sex with her. I didn't feel like I'd had sex with her. "Sure you did. If you asked her, she'd say you did. Or she'd get all pissy like she did last time." 

"This really isn't- isn't a good time." I wiped my brow. He knelt down at the end of my mattress and stared at me.

"You got tubby. Stopped working out since Fight Club is over? It shows."

"Look, I don't need your fucking commentary right now." I was dizzy, The whole world was spinning on its head.  _I am Jack's cochlear fluid going haywire._

"Hey, I'm only saying what you're feeling." God, was I really so insecure that I made up an alter-ego to talk down to me? "Yes." I kicked the blankets off. I didn't want to be in this goddamn room anymore. My legs felt like they weren't there. I leaned against a wall and attempted to stand. Tyler laughed at me, because I probably looked silly. I accidentally stepped into my own vomit, slipped, and fell on my face.  The whole planet was shaking. I could hear the click of Marla's three-dollar boots in the hall. She stood in front of me, tutting a little, like I was a stupid child who'd just broken a china dish.

"Oh man. You're a mess."

"I know." Everything I said was a whine, and I hated it. "I don't- I don't wanna be in this room, anymore."

"Yeah, I was wondering why you're in here when there's an actual  _bed_ in this house."

"Not the bed,"

That was Tyler's bed.

"Huh? What? Where the fuck else would you wanna be? Don't say 'dead', that's my joke."

"Uh, uh, uh..." She helped me up and I leaned on her shoulder. So nice and cold. It gave me a halfway-decent idea. "Uhh, ice, bathtub. Ice in the bathtub. Cold. Please." Marla handed me the glass of water she got, which I tried my best to drink. It dribbled down my chin. I felt like an infant.

"Alright, lemme just get you downstairs and I'll get Billy to do that."

"I don't think his name is Billy."

"Do  _you_ know his name?" I shook my head. "Exactly. So he's Billy." Then I was given a few seconds to finish off the rest of the water before she slung me over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. When did she get so strong? Now I feel a little bad not allowing women into Fight Club. I don't know if Marla would enjoy that kind of thing, though. She may be strong, but she does at least like to come off a little waifish. Of course, I wasn't thinking about all this at the time. At the time my head was swimming with Starry Nights and water and Billy Idol and Tyler Durden, all coagulating into a nasty, gooey paste that I could taste in the back of my mouth. No wait. That was vomit. I vomited on the floor behind Marla, who made no attempt to move. "Warn me next time."

"Sorry. I'm so sorry."

"No, oh my god, it's fine." She was descending stairs, the crappy wooden stairs that I'd gotten used to over time. Then I was on our couch, er, my couch? I was on  _the_ couch. For a second I saw my mother's face, and I felt ill when I realized it was Marla. I wonder if another woman's what we really need. "Alright, lemme go harass that fuckin' guy." I nodded, burying my face in one of the shitty throw pillows I'd bought maybe a year ago. I got them at a thrift store, and one of them had someone else's name embroidered in the pink fabric. I could hear Marla and that blonde bastard shouting at each other. The walls were paper-thin, you could hear a sheet of paper fall on the third floor from the first floor. I yawned. It was like I'd run a marathon even though I'd barely gotten out of bed all day, and I couldn't help but feel like a lazy piece of shit.

"You have no excuse to act so tired." Tyler said, leafing through one of the old magazines stacked up on the table. "Is that what you wanna hear?"

"What is  _wrong_ with you?! Go away!"

"Oop, guess I should." And when I blinked, he was gone. Marla was shuffling back in with a bit of blood on her hand.

"Who were you talking to?" She cocked a brow, and I didn't know what to say. I wanted to scream. I was frustrated and scared and sad and angry, all these baser emotions coming out. That was what Tyler wanted. He didn't want humans, he wanted animals. Space monkeys. "Oh, I get it."

"No, you really don't--"

"You're schizophrenic."

"...I don't know."

"My aunt was schizophrenic." She lifted me to my feet with her shoulder. "She used to shuffle around the house with a rake and stared forward forever. Like she was looking for something in the distance." I swallowed. "She also shat in diapers and couldn't dress herself, but that's neither here nor there." 

That blonde bastard was in the bathroom. I had no idea where he got so much ice, but presumably they were using it to help keep the fat-bags fresh for soapmaking. I hated him. I hated how he looked at me with this sense of pity, I really just wanted to choke him out. But as it stood, I could barely even hold my head up, let alone beat his ass a second time. He righted me for a moment, hands underneath my arms, and tugged at my shorts a bit.

"Hey, hey, no..." I smacked them away a bit.

"You can't bathe with clothes on, sir."

"Yeah, I know, I just- get the fuck out of here."

"But what if you--"

"I said get OUT!" I shouted loud enough for my voice to crack, and that blonde bastard nodded, ducking out of the room. "Marla, help." I hated saying that. 'Help'. I'm an adult, what should I need help with? Maybe I had something in common with Marla's schizophrenic aunt that day. Hopefully it wasn't the schizophrenia. She nodded regardless, peeling my clothes off of me. They were soaked through with sweat, and made a disgusting 'plap' sound when they hit the floor. I felt exposed. I really hoped Tyler wouldn't come back. I didn't want him to see me like this. I crawled my way into my ice bath and instantly felt like the Lord Himself had breathed onto me.

"You have a cute butt." Marla said it out of nowhere, but I was too worn out to be startled by it. "I'm gonna go make myself some coffee, just scream if you need anything." I wanted to tell her not to go, but she was already gone. I sat there, waiting for Tyler to appear. He didn't. I waited, and waited. I just waited. 

"Tyler?" I called his name. I felt lonely. And suddenly he rounded the corner through the door with this stupid smile on his face. I don't know why I wanted him around. He'd done nothing good for me, especially not today. I realized why he existed.

"So that you wouldn't feel alone? Yeah, that's one of the reasons, I guess." He towered over me. "That looks really comfortable. If it was summer? You bet your ass I'd crawl in there with you." I guess I made a weird face or something. I was caught off-guard. "Wow! You should've seen the face you just made! Would you like that? Do you wanna take a bath with me?"

"I don't know, please stop asking me weird questions..."

"You're in love with your imaginary friend! Man. I wish I could tell people about this."

"...Do you love me?" I must've been losing my mind. Delirium, euphoria, my mind was a hopeless fog. Tyler snickered at me, running a hand over my face. I'd feel dirty about it later, I knew I would, but I closed my eyes to get those images of Tyler Durden in the nude, like those porn films he cut throughout  _The Aristocats_. 

_I am Jack's longing lips._

And when I opened my eyes, he was gone again. I wanted to disappear too.


End file.
